Page 13 of Never Date a Celebrity

Once Amelia left him and walked into the bar, she took a breath. As good company as the guys had turned out to be, it was nice to steal a few moments for herself too.

Amelia looked around. Steve needn’t worry about her getting into any bother here. The place was practically empty. An older-looking guy took up one table, and there were three women chatting away at another. That was it. Every other table was empty. Which seemed like a shame because the bar itself was cute. A bit worn out maybe, but cosy. There were a few booths and nooks where Amelia could imagine herself meeting up with a group of friends and enjoying a drink together. There was an open fireplace that wasn’t currently lit, but it must be nice when it was, on a cold winter’s day. The décor was interesting too. She scanned the different plaques along the wall, half of them with sayings she had never heard of. Amelia would have to look some up.

She approached the bar—mahogany, lined with stools, and a great selection of bottles lit up on the shelves behind. There was a brunette with a ponytail who was ready to take her order. That wasn’t surprising, given the lack of customers. Amelia would have been more surprised if she had struggled to get served.

She was a pretty brunette too, the bartender. Really pretty. The type of pretty that almost made Amelia forget that she’d come in for a drink. Luckily, Amelia had kept her shades on because she totally checked her out. Taller than her, which wasn’t hard—Amelia was only five-three. She guessed the bartender was around five-six or so. She was wearing hiking pants and a fitted black T-shirt which made her look adventurous and outdoorsy. As Amelia got closer and leaned on the bar, she noticed that the bartenders’ eyes were almost as dark a shade of brown as her hair was. But warm. Warm eyes were important to Amelia. The fact that they were paired with that killer smile was just a bonus.

The woman gave her an expectant look and Amelia realised she should probably say something instead of gawking at her. “Hey, I saw your sign out the front.” She hooked her thumb behind her toward the door hoping she sounded cooler than she felt. Sometimes attractive women made her act a bit goofy.

Well, Amelia wasn’t sure that she had ever really watched the colour drain from somebody’s face before, but the poor, pretty bartender suddenly turned white as a sheet. “You mean the Guinness one? That sign?”

Had Amelia said the wrong thing? It wouldn’t be unlike her, but she couldn’t work out how she might have mis-stepped here. “That’s the one.”

The bartender stared at her for a few seconds, like she was considering her response. Then she visibly took a breath. “You know, it’s funny. Signs can exaggerate sometimes. Especially that one.”

That was an interesting comment. Who knew a sign could be the cause of so much angst—which it clearly was. Amelia was intrigued. And also, the bartender seemed jittery, and Amelia needed to fix that. She leaned in closer and dropped her voice conspiratorially. “Wait a minute. Are you saying that the best Guinness in Ireland is in fact, not served here in this bar?” She flashed a grin to show that she wasn’t being serious, despite her dramatic delivery.

It worked. The bartender seemed to relax a fraction. “I mean, I could potentially make you the best Guinness in Ireland. Anything is possible. But it’s highly improbable based on recent evidence.” She bit down on her bottom lip, probably a nervous thing. But it was also extremely sexy.

Amelia tried to remain focussed on the conversation rather than the lip—but damn. “So, you’re false advertising?”

The bartender enthusiastically pointed at her. “See, that’s what I said. Those very words.”

“Oh? So, we’ve got a whole village scandal on our hands here and you’re telling me that you’re not the one to blame? How convenient.” This was fun.

“It’s true. I’m completely innocent in all this. I’m basically opposed to the entire thing.” The bartender leaned her elbows on her side of the bar in a move that brought her even closer to Amelia. Maybe she was enjoying their exchange too, relaxing into it. She also smelled of something sweet and exotic which only entranced Amelia more.

Amelia kept playing along. “I see I came at the right time then. Who needs to pay for this injustice? Somebody has to.”

“Ah. Well, I can’t tell you that either. I would never sink either one of my best friends slash fellow owners of this bar. I just wouldn’t.” She playfully covered her mouth with her hand. “Oops.”

Amelia laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m an excellent secret keeper. Your best friends will never know that you blabbed on them at the very first opportunity.”

“I suppose I did, didn’t I?” The bartender grinned. “Well, they did leave me to deal with that silly sign. Fair’s fair.”

“That’s true. They deserve everything they get.” Amelia smiled and scanned the drinks behind the bar. “So, the crux of this whole matter is that you don’t recommend the Guinness then?”

The bartender lifted a shoulder. “Like I said, I could pour you an excellent Guinness.”

“Or?”

“Or it could be terrible. Adequate is another possibility. The joy is in the mystery, you see.”

“Do these kinds of sales pitches usually work on your customers?”

The bartender grimaced. “To be honest, you’re the first one I’ve tried it on. They usually keep me stashed away in the back.”

“That seems like a shame to me,” Amelia said. “I’m glad I chose today to visit seeing as you are evidently gracing the front of house with your presence.”

“Me too.” The bartender’s eyes widened slightly like she had surprised herself by admitting that, but Amelia was very glad that she had. They smiled at each other. It was only for a moment, but it was a nice one. Amelia was a fan of little moments, call her a romantic.

“I’m going to chance it,” Amelia said. “The Guinness.”

“Alright. But don’t say you weren’t warned.” The bartender pushed herself up off the counter.

Amelia felt like cancelling the order immediately and dragging her back down again so that she could stare dreamily into her brown eyes and make up more silly village scandals together. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said instead. The dragging would probably be a tad full-on from a mere stranger.

The bartender chuckled as she pulled a shiny glass down from the shelf above her head. “You’re not from around here.” It was a statement rather than a question.